


Good Enough

by Attenia



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Out of Character Legolas Greenleaf, Panic Attacks, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: Legolas is crushed by guilt after the battle of Helm's Deep. If he'd only shot that orc before it could blow up the wall, so many lives would have been spared. It's just one time too many of people dying because of him, because he's not good enough. Aragorn finds him on the verge of doing something irreversible. OOC Legolas. Trigger warnings for suicide attempt and panic attacks.





	Good Enough

Aragorn  
“Mellon nin?”  
Legolas refused to look at him, which only intensified Aragorn’s worry. His best friend had that closed-off look Aragorn hated, the look that was blank to everyone else, but told him that something was deeply wrong.  
Aragorn tried again. “Are you hurt?” He tried to examine him, but Legolas flinched away from his touch, something that surprised Aragorn more than his friend’s strange silence. “What is it?”  
Legolas just shook his head, his mouth still clamped shut, his eyes on his feet. Aragorn knew he needed to get to the bottom of what was bothering his friend, but people were calling urgently for healers, and Legolas didn’t seem to be injured. Reluctantly, he squeezed the elf’s shoulder before turning away.  
“Gimli? Gimli, there you are. Stay with Legolas, won’t you? I’m needed in the healing halls.”  
“Fine, fine.” Gimli’s airy tone faded as he caught sight of the prince. “What’s wrong with him?”  
“He won’t tell me. Just keep an eye on him. I’ll be back to check on him in a few hours.”  
Those few hours went quickly. Aragorn lost himself in his work. He’d been trained by Lord Elrond himself, and though he didn’t have his father’s talent, Aragorn was skilled at healing, just as much as his brothers were, despite their longer years.  
The worst seemed to be over for now. Most of those injured in the battle were either dead or on the mend. He was just going to find Legolas when he bumped into Gimli.  
“Gimli? Where’s Legolas?”  
The dwarf shrugged. “He said he needed some time alone to think.”  
“And you let him go?”  
“Why wouldn’t I? Aragorn, what’s wrong?”  
Aragorn bit back an angry retort. Gimli didn’t know Legolas as well as he did, but surely even the dwarf should be able to see that there was something terribly wrong with their friend. “Where was he when you last saw him?”  
“He was heading toward the east tower –”  
Aragorn didn’t wait, but started sprinting east, dodging between people in his urgency to find his best friend. Something about Legolas’ manner earlier left him deeply worried; he didn’t feel safe leaving his friend alone right now.  
When he reached the tower, he blinked hard, half-hoping that what he was seeing was an exhausted hallucination borne from his worst fears. Most unfortunately, the vision didn’t fade. Legolas was standing on the short wall that was all that separated the tower from the long drop to the ground. He stared down, swaying slightly.  
“Legolas?” Aragorn was afraid to move or breathe, terrified that anything he did might cause his friend to jump.  
Legolas turned his head a bit to the side, and Aragorn saw that tears were running thickly down his face. “I’m sorry, Estel.”  
“What are you sorry for, gwador nin?” Aragorn took a cautious step closer.  
“That so many people are dead because of me.”  
Aragorn frantically tried to think of what the prince could be talking about, but he came up blank. “What do you mean?” He took another careful step forward.  
“Don’t pretend you don’t know! How many were killed in the explosion alone, not to mention the hundreds that died when the orcs broke through the outer wall? If I had just shot that one with the torch before he could light the fuse…” He broke off with a sob, turning back to the long drop before him.  
Aragorn suddenly understood. He should have realized it earlier. Legolas always blamed himself for the deaths of others in battle, even when there was no way he could have prevented them. The prince wanted to protect everyone, and he took losses hard.  
“Step down from the wall, gwador. Please. Let’s talk about this.”  
It was the wrong thing to say. Legolas cringed and tilted forward alarmingly, looking like he might throw himself off the ledge at any moment. “I can’t.”  
Aragorn had managed to edge himself forward ten steps, but he still wasn’t close enough to catch Legolas if he jumped now.  
“Please.” Tears were choking his voice, and it was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling. “Gwador, I need you. Don’t leave me.”  
Something in Legolas’ expression flickered, and Aragorn took a few more steps forward. He reached out slowly, not wanting to spook the elf, and took his hand. Legolas’s fingers were limp under his.  
“Come on, mellon nin. Let me help you.”  
Legolas stared blankly ahead as Aragorn slowly put an arm around his waist and half-lifted him down from the wall. The two of them sank down to the floor with their backs against the wall, Legolas’ waist still in the ranger’s tight grip. Aragorn felt positively faint with relief.  
“Don’t ever do that to me again, mellon nin. My heart won’t survive it.”  
The horrible blankness was back on Legolas’ face, but at his words, it wavered, and the tears started again.  
“It wasn’t your fault,” Aragorn whispered.  
“It was.” The words sounded painful as Legolas spat them out with a loathing that made Aragorn flinch.  
“Please don’t blame yourself, mellon nin. You know things always go wrong in battle. It’s happened many times before. What makes this time so different?”  
“Maybe it was just one time too many watching people die because of me. Because I’m not good enough to save them.”  
Aragorn was suddenly wracked with a wave of remorse. How could he have failed to notice that his best friend was suffering this much? He’d known Legolas had always taken deaths hard, but he’d never suspected it had gotten so bad that the prince would want to throw himself off the top of a tower.  
Legolas had always been a bit withdrawn after battles, though never to this extent. Aragorn realized that his friend must have been bottling up all of his grief and ill-placed guilt until he could bear it no longer. How could he not have seen it?  
“Come on. Let’s get you back to your room.”  
Legolas didn’t protest as Aragorn helped him up. The prince cast a longing gaze at the tower’s edge, but Aragorn’s grip on his waist was tight and there was no way the elf would have been able to pull free even if he tried.  
Neither of them spoke as they made their way to their rooms. Aragorn made no move to enter his own room, but followed Legolas into the prince’s room right opposite. At his urging, Legolas lay down on the bed, his face still awfully blank.  
He crawled into bed with his friend, remembering how Legolas used to comfort him when he was a child. He pulled the elf close so that his head was resting on Aragorn’s arm, his face tucked into the man’s chest.  
“Speak to me, mellon nin. Tell me.”  
Legolas shook his head, his entire body as tense as a drawn bow string.  
“You can’t keep all of this inside, not anymore. You have to know that. You would have jumped, if I hadn’t come along, wouldn’t you?”  
Slowly, Legolas nodded. “I do not deserve your support or your love. You should leave me.”

Legolas  
“Not a chance, gwador. I am not leaving you. There is no one more deserving of love than you are.”  
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold himself together for, and he wanted Estel gone for the inevitable explosion. The last thing he wanted was to burden his heart’s brother with his sorrow.  
Estel’s hands worked the muscles of his tense back, and Legolas couldn’t help but relax into the expert touch. “Tell me,” the human coaxed.  
What was the point? Estel wasn’t going to leave this alone. Legolas may as well get it over with. He’d detail his guilt, Estel would deny it, and they would move on with their lives. Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a ragged sob. It was followed by another, and another. He couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried.  
“That’s right, mellon nin, just let it all out. It’s ok to feel, I promise.”  
“It hurts,” he sobbed. It was so much easier pushing everything away. Why didn’t Estel see that?  
“I know it hurts, gwador. It won’t always hurt this much, I swear.”  
It hadn’t used to hurt this much. Legolas didn’t know when the buried guilt and pain had gone from uncomfortable to unbearable. He didn’t know what Estel thought he was doing, forcing him to live this pain. Maybe burying everything had been painful, but this, this outpouring of every bitter, hurting feeling he’d ever had? Nothing had ever hurt as much as this had.  
Legolas curled over, clutching his torso as his stomach and chest tried to uproot themselves. He was seized with an irrational terror that his body would literally fall apart just like his mind was.  
“Help,” he whispered desperately. “Estel, help.”  
“I’m here, Legolas. What do you need?”  
He couldn’t put into words what he needed. Legolas panted in panic and the world started to sway before his eyes. Air came in painful gasps, and his body was shaking so hard from sobs that he was sure he was coming apart at the seams.  
Perhaps it was the healer in him, or perhaps he simply knew his friend, but Estel seemed to know what to do. He grabbed the blanket, wrapping it tightly around them so that they were cocooned in it. Then he wrapped his arms and legs around Legolas, holding him so tightly that his body couldn’t fall apart.  
Of course, that did nothing for his mind, which was tearing apart from within. “I – can’t – I –”  
Estel pressed Legolas’ forehead firmly into his chest, so that Legolas could feel his steady heartbeat. “What can’t you do, gwador?”  
Legolas desperately seized on the heartbeat, trying to match his own panicked gasps to the steady rhythm. “I can’t live when so – so many have d-died – because of me – or for m-me.”  
He was losing the battle with his breathing. Legolas was only glad his father wasn’t here to watch the prince of Greenwood become increasingly hysterical in his friend’s arms. The air from the room was swiftly disappearing, and Legolas flailed in panic, desperate to pull in a proper breath, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.  
Estel held him tightly, trapping his thrashing limbs. “You’re ok, mellon nin, it’s alright.”  
He wasn’t ok, he was dying of suffocation! Legolas tried to tell Estel this, but he had no breath for the words.  
“Just let the feelings come. They won’t consume you. I won’t let them.”  
Estel’s steady, calm voice was a thread of sanity that Legolas clung to. He managed to pull enough of a breath to speak. “Can’t – breathe.”  
He expected Estel to leap up and begin helping him at once, but the human only squeezed him tighter. “You can breathe, I promise. It’s just your mind telling you that you can’t.”  
Legolas shook his head, but Estel still spoke steadily to him. “I’m a healer, remember? There’s nothing wrong with your lungs or your throat. Your brain just doesn’t like dealing with the feelings you’re having, and it’s telling you that you’re dying. You’re not, I promise. Just try to breathe slowly.”  
Breathing slowly was utterly unattainable at present, but Estel didn’t seem to mind that Legolas was blatantly ignoring his instructions, or perhaps realized he was incapable of following them. He held both of the elf’s hands in one of his, while his other hand rubbed soothing circles on Legolas’ back.  
He spoke quietly in the prince’s ear. “That’s right, you’re ok. I know it’s hard, but it’s better to experience these feelings and let them go. Outside of you, they can’t do you any more harm; inside, they can eat you alive.”  
Somewhere between Estel’s calming touch, his steady voice and the regular beat of his heart, Legolas managed to get his breathing into a semi-regular rhythm, though his entire body was still wracked with sobs.  
At Estel’s urging, Legolas started to talk. He spoke of every bitter memory, every death that left a scar on his heart. Through the night, they lay together, Estel listening and Legolas speaking. Several times, Legolas was overcome with shame and tried to escape, to pull himself from his friend’s arms and bury himself in his walls again, but Estel wouldn’t let him go, giving his steadfast love and support, whether Legolas wanted to accept it or not.  
“How many times have you held me when I wept after battle, after burying those who followed me?” Estel murmured in his ear. “Why would you think it is weakness to desire the same?”  
“I should – should be stronger than that.”  
“Hiding your pain isn’t strength, mellon nin. Facing it is.”  
That, Legolas could agree with. This night had been more grueling than centuries of repressing memories put together, yet even as he fell apart, he felt lighter, as though the burdens of so many years were being lifted away with his words.  
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Legolas didn’t dread the coming day, didn’t wish he’d never been born. He had too much to do, too many memories to make with Estel. Their stories were far from over.  
Eventually, he fell into an exhausted sleep, listening to the steady beat of Estel’s heart.

Aragorn  
Aragorn was woken by Legolas stirring. The prince’s eyes were red from crying, but he looked more peaceful than Aragorn had seen him in a long time. “How are you feeling, mellon nin?”  
Legolas stared down at himself, somewhat disbelievingly. “I didn’t fall apart. Your hold was tight enough.”  
So that had been why Legolas had desperately clenched Aragorn’s arms tighter around him whenever he tried to loosen his grip for fear of hurting his friend. “I would never let you fall apart, gwador. Any time you need me to hold you together, I’m here.”  
Legolas nodded. He tried half-heartedly to sit up before slumping back down in exhaustion. “I should go and help with the repairs. The explosion –”  
“There are plenty of people working on that. You need rest.”  
Aragorn saw tears appearing in Legolas’ eyes at the mention of the events of the battle that had distressed him so. As much as it hurt to see his friend in pain, Aragorn knew that holding it in would only make the pain worse when it finally came out – last night could attest to that.  
“Don’t try to stop it,” he murmured gently, pulling Legolas’ head onto his shoulder.  
“I cried enough last night. I will cry no more.” The waver in the prince’s voice belied his words, and Aragorn once more started rubbing his back.  
“I don’t know how many years you’ve been doing this for – shoving the pain down, hiding from it – but it’ll take more than one night to release all of it.”  
“One night will have to suffice. We’re in the middle of a war. I can’t spend the next solid year weeping.”  
“No,” Aragorn agreed, “but you’re not going to block these things out anymore.”  
“I don’t know how not to,” Legolas admitted.  
“I’ll help you, gwador. Whenever something happens, something that you blame yourself for or feel pain over, come and talk to me. I won’t let you hide it away.”  
Legolas gave a shaky laugh. “Only you could draw such things out of me. Only you, Estel.”  
“That’s what friends are for.”  
“No.” Legolas gave him a tearful smile. “That’s what brothers are for. Thank you, gwador. For saving me. For making me want to live again.”  
There was no describing the joy those words brought to life inside him. Aragorn gently wiped his friend’s tears. “It is my honor, gwador, and no more than you have done for me in the past, no more than you will do many times in the future, I am sure.”  
“That much is true.” Legolas chuckled. “With the number of times I’ve had to save your hide and drag you back to Elrond for healing, I’m surprised he doesn’t have a head of gray hair by now.”  
“Hey! The twins are just as much to blame for Ada’s woes. They’re the ones who taught me, after all.”  
“They taught you to fall off cliffs, did they?”  
Aragorn winced. He wondered just how much of last night’s outpouring of pain had been repressed feelings over his supposed death a few days earlier. “Tell you what. I won’t tell your father about your unfortunate experience with heights if you don’t tell Ada about mine.”  
For a moment, he feared that his mention of last night’s harrowing experience at the top of the tower would sour the light, cheerful mood, but he needn’t have worried.  
Legolas laughed. “Deal. If either of them found out, they’d send us to live in the mines with dwarves.”  
“Well, at least Gimli would be happy.”  
“He’d be the only one. Speaking of which, where is Gimli?”  
Aragorn stretched out his stiff muscles. “Probably having breakfast. Shall we join him?”  
“Let us do so. I could do with a good breakfast.”  
Aragorn didn’t fool himself that this was the end of Legolas’ troubles, but for now, it was good enough. He’d be by his friend’s side for the journey ahead, both the physical one and the mental one, just as Legolas was always by his side.  
“Don’t expect me to start crying in front of that dwarf,” Legolas warned. “I’d never hear the end of it.”  
“As long as you don’t hide yourself with me, I’ll be happy.”  
“I won’t hide from you anymore, Estel. I promise.”  
“Then that’s good enough for me, mellon nin. Good enough.”


End file.
